The sounds of the stringed instruments softened and seemingly evaporated into the still of the night.
Uncle Alfredo’s last wish… the annual open concert- concerto, actually, in The Greens.
The Greens… the only remaining open space in the city limits. Uncle Alfredo had willed it to city council to be used in-perpetuity as a city park. With stipulations… we were attending one of them.
Tonight was The Fourteenth Green’s Concerto.
Uncle Alfredo had started them when he turned eighty. His birthday present to the city. He was always in attendance… seventh row on the side of the woodwinds.
I did not think that he would make this one.
Uncle Alfredo’s hand stiffened in my hand, and then and relaxed, as the last sounds of the concerto found its way into the surrounding woodlands.
As the concerto ceased, so did Uncle Alfredo.
Just the way he would have wanted…
Written for Friday Fictioneers. Requirements: Create a 100+ word flash using the picture prompt. A late entry…